


Unexpected Consequences

by flawedamythyst



Series: S3 Episode Codas [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 10:29:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>S3.01 Fic. Spoilers!</p><p>An alternate version of the train scene.</p><p> </p><p>Huge thanks to Mazarin and Mistyzeo for betaing for me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected Consequences

As lovely as it was to be back on the case with John, Sherlock couldn’t help noticing that things weren’t quite right between them yet.

The problem was that John had bought in rather too heavily to the British habit of bottling powerful emotions up until they broke free in a whirlwind of rage and shouting. Sherlock was more than aware of that, particularly after being attacked three times, in three different dining establishments. This was compounded by the fact that John’s mind was simple enough that until he admitted what he was feeling out loud, he often didn’t realise the truth of it.

He’d forgiven Sherlock already, probably as soon as he had a long period of time in which to think it over. Probably while he was at work; his habit of sorting his thoughts out while at work was long-established. However, it was clear from his tense shoulders and occasional deep breath to calm himself that he hadn’t _realised_ that he’d forgiven Sherlock yet. That was only going to cause problems – he’d be snappy and aggressive and less likely to just fall in alongside Sherlock where he was meant to be.

Sherlock hadn’t done all the things he’d done over the last two years just to come home and not have John with him. He’d need to break through John’s emotional barriers, get him to realise that he’d forgiven Sherlock, and then they could get things back to how they should be. Easy. Particularly when given the impetus of a certain-death situation.

Sherlock bent over the bomb, taking the time to put himself completely into the persona he’d need to play, and then knelt back. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, as if barely able to get the words out.

“What?” snapped John, shaking his head with denial.

“I can’t do it, John. I don’t know how.” He knelt up a bit so that John could see his face better. No point in acting if John couldn’t see it. “Forgive me.”

“What?” said John again, sounding even angrier. Sherlock did hope he wasn’t going to get stuck on disbelief. That wasn’t part of the plan.

“Please, John, forgive me.” He found himself pressing his hands together as if in prayer, kneeling before John as if he were begging for divine intervention. Perhaps he was. “For all the hurt that I caused you.” 

Sincerity was extremely easy to channel, perhaps because he was sincere. He was sorry, overwhelmingly sorry, but there would have been no call to mention it if it wasn’t crucial to this act.

John pointed a shaking finger at him. “No, no no no. This is a trick.”

“No,” said Sherlock, shaking his head while he thought, _Clever John. He knows me far too well. Or perhaps just well enough._

“Another one of your bloody tricks.”

“No.”

“You’re just trying to make me say something nice.”

Sherlock couldn’t hold in a smile at that, but he managed to twist it into more of a grimace. “Not this time.”

“It’s just to make you look good even though you behaved like-” John’s voice ran out and he shut his eyes, jerking his head. Sherlock felt the full weight of what he had done to John settle in his chest like a lead weight. _He’s forgiven me,_ he reminded himself. _He just needs to say it._

Sherlock was very aware that the numbers had stopped counting down on the bomb and that it would only take a glance for John to notice. He started to shuffle slowly away from it, hoping to keep John’s attention on him.

There wasn’t much need. John was clinging to a pole, taking slow, deep breaths like he always did when emotion was threatening to overwhelm him. He stamped his foot and then said, in a hoarse voice. “I wanted you not to be dead.”

Ah, here it came. Sherlock knelt up a bit. “Yeah, well, be careful what you wish for.” He took a deep breath, almost in tandem with John, and made himself meet John’s eyes. He wasn’t sure if the emotion on his own face was real or fake, but either way, it would get the job done. “If I hadn’t come back, you wouldn’t be standing there, and,” John turned away to stare into darkness of tunnel, shaking his head. His shoulders were hunched over so tightly that Sherlock’s ached in sympathy, “you’d still have a future.” He pressed his lips and then forced himself to finish the sentence. “With Mary.”

John turned back and jabbed a finger at Sherlock.“Yeah. I know.” His conviction fled and his hand dropped.

God, he was so close. Sherlock just needed to give him that one extra push. He pushed a fist in front of his mouth as if trying to hold sobs in, and saw the exact moment John broke.

“Look, I find it difficult,” John said in a voice so hoarse that it didn’t sound like him at all, before he shut his eyes, pulling himself together for a second go. “I find it difficult, this sort of stuff.”

That was an extreme understatement. “I know.”

John tried some more deep breaths, then went to his last resort when it came to pushing himself through an emotional moment. His back straightened, his head went up, and he did everything short of saluting. “You were the best and the wisest man that I have ever known.”

Oh. That was more than Sherlock had expected. He could feel the last traces of his act vanishing, but his true reaction was almost exactly what he’d have faked, so he didn’t try to replace it.

“And yes of course I forgive you,” said John, and his voice firmed up as he said it.

Relief and happiness rushed through Sherlock, even while he tried to hold on to the edges of sadness in order to maintain the game. It was too stunning though – he’d known John felt that, but somehow hearing the words still came as a revelation. The weight in his chest melted away.

“And I love you,” said John. 

Wait, what?

“There, I said it. I love you. I’ve loved you from the start,” John’s shoulders had relaxed, although he was still keeping his military posture. Sherlock couldn’t stop himself from just staring at him. Where the hell had that come from?

“You’re not gay,” he heard himself say.

John gave a little laugh that sounded more like a sob. “Yeah, that’s what I kept saying. Didn’t seem to stop it, though.”

He took a deep breath, then drew himself up. “It’s done. It’s out. God, okay.” He raised his face to the ceiling, closing his eyes and bracing himself for the explosion that wasn’t coming.

Sherlock just kept staring. He couldn’t help it. John was in love with him? But that- That wasn’t-

His brain felt blank, wiped clean of all thought.

John let out his breath and frowned, then glanced down at the bomb as if checking how much time they had.

Ah.

His eyes widened as he saw the blinking 1:28, and then he turned his disbelieving look on Sherlock,who couldn’t help smirking at the look on his face.

“You...” said John, and then his face creased into anger, mingled with just enough hysterical relief to keep him from physically attacking Sherlock. “You bastard! I’m going to kill you!”

“Oh, that’s so two years ago,” said Sherlock, standing up. The act was done with. Time to move on.

“You!” said John, gesturing furiously. “You made me think- Oh!”

The figures of armed police appeared around the bend of the tunnel.

“And you called the police!”

“Of course,” said Sherlock.

John took in an impressively deep breath, then jabbed a finger at Sherlock. “You don’t tell anyone about this,” he said. “Nothing I said gets mentioned again. Nothing, you understand?”

Sherlock hesitated for a moment and it was a moment too long. John’s face shut down completely, and he spun away, stomping out of the train carriage and back down the tunnel, past the police officers.

Shit, Sherlock was going to lose him after all. If John left now, he’d never come back. He’d be too busy hiding his embarrassment to ever relax around Sherlock again. This had to be fixed now, immediately.

Sherlock hurried after him, ignoring the police trying to get him to stop and talk. “John!” he called. “John, wait!”

John ignored him, except to tuck his head in and walk faster.

“John! Don’t leave, let me-”

“Let you what?” John shouted back over his shoulder. “Lie to me again? Make up some other lie with the aim of humiliating me?”

He reached the platform edge and had to slow to pull himself up over it.

“That was not at all my aim,” said Sherlock. He pulled himself up to the platform much quicker than John had, taking advantage of his height. Two swift strides and he was able to catch John’s shoulder and spin him around so that they could talk properly.

“I needed you to forgive me,” he said. That wasn’t right. He’d meant to say _you needed to forgive me_.

“So you pretended we were going to die?” said John. “Jesus, Sherlock! How can you be so cold? You don’t joke about that kind of thing!”

“I know,” said Sherlock. “It wasn’t a joke. I was- I needed you to-” His words were failing him. He hadn’t had a chance to put together the act he’d usually present for this, and the truth was he had no idea what would work best anyway. After the shock of John’s revelation, Sherlock was having to rewrite everything he’d thought he’d known about him.

 _This is like the night he shot the cabbie,_ he thought. Actually, it was like a lot of times when John had managed to surprise him. How had he forgotten that? When he’d been away, he’d grown used to the idea that he knew everything about John. He’d forgotten that John was the one person who always managed to defy his expectations.

“Please, John,” he said, giving up on finding any more useful words.

John sighed, but his face softened. “I should tell you where to shove it,” he said.

“I know,” acknowledged Sherlock. John never did that, though. Time after time, he forgave Sherlock for things that others would have condemned him for.

“I’m such an idiot,” said John. He slumped, defeat in every line of his face.

“No,” said Sherlock. “You were- you were just being honest. I misjudged. I’m sorry, John.”

John gave a weary nod. “Right then,” he said. “We’ll just pretend nothing happened, yeah?”

Sherlock knew he should be agreeing, but he couldn’t open his mouth. His jaws seemed welded together.

John looked up. “Come on, Sherlock.”

Sherlock shook his head, slowly and then with more confidence. God, this was going to be a horrific mistake, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from making it. “I don’t want to forget it,” he whispered, and then bent forward to press a kiss to John’s lips, as carefully as if he might shatter at the wrong move.

John drew in a sudden breath and stared at Sherlock with nothing but shock. Sherlock couldn’t read anything else from his face, and he felt himself tense. Was he getting yet another thing wrong?

“Oi!” came a loud voice behind them, making them both jump and breaking the moment. “You need to move out of here! It’s not safe yet.”

Sherlock spun to see a police officer waving them back towards the stairs. He gave him his very best sneer. “Of course it is, I turned the thing off myself.”

“Oh yeah, and bombs aren’t volatile, unpredictable things at all,” said the man. “Go on, get out of here and let us do our jobs.”

Sherlock drew in a frustrated breath and turned back to John, only to find that he’d disappeared.

 

The next time Sherlock saw John, he was holding firmly to Mary’s hand and giving Sherlock his very best we’re-just-good-friends smile. “We’re getting married,” he said to Lestrade, and Sherlock felt his heart shatter.


End file.
